


Please Dump Your Hobbits In An Orderly Fashion

by Aida



Series: Dump Your Fics With Care [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: ... In their pants, Additional Pairings to be Added, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bilbo somehow became a sex god...?, Everyone wants Bilbo, Fic Dump, Heck maybe even a crossover or two, Multi, Oh god I went there, One of these, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pugs Under the Mountain AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:48:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically where I plan to dump fics that I don't plan on finishing or ficlets that I'm not brave enough to post alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo/Kíli - Ye Olde Soulmate Trope

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning to do one of these since I've seen other authors do the same, and because I have a number of these little ficlet things that I don't ever plan on finishing but I didn't want them to waste away. 
> 
> Anyone, kicking it off with this one: A Soulmate/Soulmark AU. I imagine that if one of the company has Bilbo as their soulmate, the mark wouldn't show up until he was born. So then they're left thinking that they'll never have one until one day BOOM HEY YOU'VE GOT A SOULMATE SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG THEY WEREN'T EVEN BORN YET.

For the longest time, Kíli thought he was one of the Nameless: A dwarrow who lacked a One, a soulmate, the one being gifted to a dwarf by Mahal himself. While most dwarrows were born with names on their wrists, his was blank. His mother would look sadly upon it when she thought he couldn’t notice. His brother tried to hide his own, just like his uncle did, to hope that it didn’t remind Kíli that Mahal was cruel enough to not give him a One. 

At first, he didn’t care, not bothering to hide the fact that he had no Name. He didn’t understand the significance of it all, since he was so young. It wasn’t until he started getting picked on for more than his love for trees and archery that he started to loathe his bare wrists. Started to loathe Mahal, for what could he have done, as he was being made, to make his Maker despise him so as to not give him someone to call his One? Someone to love and cherish until the end of their days? Was he not worthy? Others were, even though they were cruel, and he had done nothing but smile and make his family happy. 

He was in quite a depression (his poor mother was worried sick in thinking that he was going to be like an elf and _fade_ ) until he was twenty-six. For six months, his wrist burned and itched, going raw and red from his scratching. He didn’t know what was causing it, feared what could be causing it. His mother and uncle went to anyone they thought could help, but many had no idea as to what was causing it. He didn’t dare to think that it could be anything but a rash, not wanting to raise his hopes before they were promptly squashed.

It wasn’t until he woke up on a dreary September morning that he finally knew why.

The redness was gone, as was the burning sensation. In its place, however, was a Name. A real, honest-to-goodness Name. 

He had a One, after all.

He didn’t even pause to read it, instead rushing through the house and calling for everyone in his excitement. And he was excited, impossibly so. For how could he not be?

Kíli had promptly leapt onto his brother’s bed after his calls to his mother and uncle, jumping up and down until Fíli was coherent enough to kick him.

“What is your problem!?” He groused, eyes bleary and hair mussed. “Why are you awake at such an hour?”

“Look!” Was all Kíli would say, shoving his wrist into his brother’s face. The wrist that had the Name.

At first, he glared at it, and Kíli vibrated as he watched his brother’s eyes widen as he finally realized what he was staring at. He didn’t even mind that Fíli held his wrist in an iron grip, pulling it closer to read it better.

“A Name…” He whispered. “You… You have someone!”

“I do! I have a One!” Kíli cried, taking his wrist back to finally read the name. “And their name is-!”

Before he could truly grasp what it was, the door to Fíli’s room burst open, revealing their glaring uncle and their hysterical mother.

“What has got you in such a mood!?” She cried. “There’s hardly any sun! We have a long day ahead of us!”

“Kíli’s got a Name!” Fíli cut in quickly, and he shoved his brother’s wrist at their mother.

Thorin, however, was the one to reach for it first. “A Name?” He asked, brow smoothing when he saw the dark writing on his nephew’s wrist. “It’s a Name.”

“Let me see that! He’s my boy, after all!” Dís hissed, taking Kíli’s wrist now. She stared at it, and Kíli balked when she had the nerve to roughly rub her thumb on it. As if he put it there himself. Eventually, her eyes widen. “It’s a Name. A _real_ Name!”

“Why would it appear so late?” Thorin asked and Dís scoffed.

“You heard what some have said: Sometimes we arrive before our Ones, and it takes a while for our Names to appear.” She explained. “Clearly, that’s what happened, though I have no idea why it took this long.”

Kíli finally managed to wrangle his wrist back. Now that everyone had seen that he did indeed have a name, he wanted to protect it. To cherish it. Almost keep it to himself.

“I had never seen such a name on one of our kind, though.” Thorin mused. “What was it again?”

He almost wanted to decline giving it away. That it was none of his uncle’s business. But the name on his wrist wasn’t a dwarrow’s. Not a sacred name, one that should only be read out loud by kin. So he bravely peered at the neat scrawl.

“Bilbo Baggins.”

Thorin then had the audacity to scoff. “No wonder it took so long. He’s not even a dwarf!” He groused. “Probably was just born.”

“So what of it?” Kíli snapped. “He is my One, dwarf or not! He bears my name as clearly as I do!”

Thorin’s eyes had widened in shock. “Kíli, I did not mean it…” He muttered. “I’m just saying that, if he is not a dwarf, he is of another race. A race that might not have our same beliefs. Nor our same lifespan.”

“I don’t care!”

“I am not saying that you should! But you have to be prepared!” Thorin groused. “His life might be short, very short. They-.”

“Enough!” Dís cut in, seeing her son’s face flushing with anger. “Kíli has just got his Name! It is a good thing, regardless of other circumstances. We are going to celebrate it.”

“But-.”

“No. Buts.” With that, Dís turned to her son, smiling wide. “I am truly happy for you, my precious gem. Now, seeing as we’re all up, I shall see to breakfast. A good feast is in order to celebrate, don’t you think?”

Thorin looked like he wanted to say more, but he bit his tongue, nodding briskly. 

“Hurry up, then, boys. Wash up and get dressed. We have a busy day ahead.”

As they departed, Kíli rushed to his room, where he sat on his bed and marveled at the words on his wrist. He gently traced them with his finger, feeling something well up inside of him.

“Bilbo Baggins…” He whispered. “I cannot wait to meet you.”


	2. Bilbo's Harem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there was a delay with the Company getting on with their adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I thought the "everyone wants to sleep with Bilbo and therefore they all stay at Bag End for a while and become his personal harem" idea was a good one.
> 
> Turns out noooot really.

Dwarves had to have been born with the heart of their forges within them. There was no other explanation. They were born to do well with metal, gems, and rock alike. Plus, they also radiated enough body heat to melt anything. Which was why Bilbo felt like he was drenched with sweat when he awoke that morning. But really, that was his only complaint. Who would really have a problem with a bed full of ridiculously attractive dwarves?

A smile twitched as his lips as he took stock of their positions. Fíli and Kíli were the closest, as he was sandwiched between the two. Then there was Thorin, whose surprisingly comfortable stomach substituted his pillow. His own stomach was Dwalin’s pillow, as Nori and Ori were next to him, curled around his legs. He was sure Bofur was there, or someone stole his hat, for it covered his face. He knew Dori and Balin were off in their own room, for the bed was rather crowded. Oin, Gloin, Bifur, and Bombur also had separate rooms, for either they were married, or they just weren’t all that interested. 

As he managed to worm his way out of bed, little groans and whines in his wake, he thought of how he wound up in such an arrangement. He didn’t know what it was about hobbits, or about him in particular, but as soon as the dwarves entered his home, it was as if a spell was cast on them that had them enraptured by his simple, little self. Nothing was said, or done, before nightfall, when Bilbo left them, unsure of his involvement in their quest. It was then, it seemed, that they merely filed into his room.

It was in the same order of when they first arrived. Dwalin was first, surprisingly kind and considerate despite his intimidating appearance. Also surprisingly submissive, for it didn’t take long to have him on his knees. Then it was Balin, whose white beard was incredibly soft and ticklish on his belly. Fíli and Kíli came in, the most energetic and expressive, with sweet little faces that scrunched up delightedly. Then Bofur, followed by Dori, Nori, and Ori not too soon afterwards. It was all limbs, gasps, and the odd laugh, and Bilbo hadn’t felt so cared for in decades. When he was blissed out and ready for bed, Thorin came in, and at first, he swore that the king would be angry. But he was apologetic, and he meant it, and made it up to him more than once. Bilbo probably should have kicked up more of a fuss, for he hardly knew the company, but it had been so long, and they were almost painfully attractive and kind. All of them. And as he got to know them, he became a little smitten with them in turn.

That first time had happened ten days ago. And still they stayed, as if something was keeping them in his home and they didn’t mind in the slightest. At first, he thought it was because he didn’t sign the contract and they were trying to persuade him, but he signed several days ago. Yet still, they didn’t seem inclined to leave. Bilbo didn’t mind, really, for they tidied up after themselves and were pleasant enough company. He was just glad that they all didn’t swarm him for his attention. Yes, some seemed to turn to each other, but they seemed more interested in him, and approached him one-on-one, or in pairs or trios. He never felt so happy, content, and sexually satisfied in quite some time. 

He could live without the whispers from his neighbors (he certainly wouldn’t call his current arrangement a “harem of grizzly beings”, honestly). Could live without having to restock his pantry every day or so. And he could live without his guests emitting such large amounts of body heat, but other than that, he didn’t feel too inclined to change things.

Putting on his housecoat, he walked through the halls of his home, tutting at the disarray of weapons, cloaks, boots and the like, he paused as he reached the kitchen. Gandalf was there, like he was every morning, as confounded at the dwarves’ resistance at leaving as he was. It was almost embarrassing, meeting Gandalf in the kitchen in his state: hair frazzled and tangled, covered in bite marks and bruises (all that he had asked for), and rather bow-legged (not so much that morning, since he was the giver in most cases the night before, this time). 

“Good morning,” Bilbo greeted, wincing at his own phrasing and at how Gandalf quirked an eyebrow. “ _Don’t!_ Don’t start with that, it’s far too early.”

“Yes, I see that…” The wizard muttered as Bilbo felt his face go aflame as he went to make tea. “It seems that we aren’t leaving again, today. They would’ve awoken by now, if that were the case.”

“The delay isn’t my fault.” Bilbo insisted. “I keep telling them that I’m ready. I even signed the contract…”

“Yes, and it was promptly tossed aside when Nori stole you away.” He commented, causing Bilbo’s flush to go even darker. “Not that I mind. You would think, though, that your own little…”

“They aren’t my harem!” 

Gandalf sent Bilbo a look as he fidgeted, hands flexing at his sides.

“Not… really, anyway.” He continued. “Okay, maybe they are, but I don’t like that word! It makes it sound so… So…!”

“Peace, Bilbo.” Gandalf cut in, raising a placating hand. “Hopefully, we will be leaving tomorrow. I know that some of the company has been readying supplies, ponies, amongst other things…”

Bilbo let out a deep breath. He was rather nervous about the entire thing, and hoping that they would leave Bag End soon. Not that he wanted them to go, or didn’t want to go with them (he had every intention of going), but Bag End was quite crowded, his stamina was suffering, and the call for an adventure was now truly singing in his blood.

“I haven’t managed to figure it out, yet.” Gandalf cut in, breaking Bilbo from his musings as the hobbit sat down to enjoy his tea. “Why the dwarves seem so… attached.”

Those words unsettled Bilbo, fears that this was all some sort of sorcery welling up in his mind. That they would be freed from it and forget, or worse, hate him for it all. To ignore Bilbo from this point onward, and to feel regret about all that happened. They might even decide not to let him join them on their quest, even after Bilbo signed that ridiculous contract.

“Peace, my friend.” The wizard spoke, and Bilbo jumped a little when a large hand touched his shoulder. “While I do not know the cause, I do know what it isn’t. That is, I know that they aren’t bewitched, or acting against their own will. All that they do, it is of their own choices. It has all been consensual… Unless-.”

“No!” Bilbo barked. “No, I-… I consented…”

Whatever dark look was brewing disappeared in Gandalf’s eyes as he spoke those words, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably. He was quite relieved when the conversation shifted to lighter topics as the dwarves continued to sleep. It was all well and good until Gandalf cleared his throat rather loudly, mumbling about apples before leaving the table, then the kitchen entirely. It was only when he felt something warm and solid press against his back that he knew why Gandalf fled. It wasn’t until strands of blonde hair entered his vision that he realized that the newcomer was Fíli.

“Good morning.” Bilbo finally murmured, huffing a laugh when the dwarf in question started placing whiskery kisses along his neck. 

“It is far too early for this morning to be good.” Fíli murmured into his ear, causing the hobbit to jump. “Especially when you left us all on our lonesome.”

“I did no such thing. I just didn’t feel like lazing about in bed, waiting for you all to get up.” He countered, leaning into the prince’s chest. He bit his lip, unable to help himself as he reached back around, freezing when he was met with thickly-muscled legs covered in soft fur. 

“Oh, please tell me you’re not completely naked.”

“No.” Fíli replied, and Bilbo could just hear the grin in his voice as he took a good look at Fíli’s arm and felt relief when he saw they had sleeves. “I threw this on. Didn’t want to wear anything else at the moment.”

“Feeling lazy?”

“Feeling the need for easy access, is more like.” 

Bilbo inhaled sharply as Fíli’s words were like a punch to his gut, shocking his arousal awake at the mere thought. If he were twenty years younger, he would’ve thrown the young dwarf onto the table and ravished him right in the kitchen. Propriety be dammed.

“Are you going to hog our burglar all to yourself?”

Bilbo craned his head as Fíli did the same, seeing Kíli leaning against the doorframe. He was as equally disheveled as his brother, and less dressed. 

He was suddenly quite glad the wizard deigned it fit to leave.

“Is everyone planning on walking about in naught but their skin?” Bilbo enquired. “Not that I mind, but aren’t you cold?”

“We wouldn’t have to be.” Kíli replied, sauntering over to where he sat with his brother draped over him. “We came to get you.”

“We did indeed.” Fíli cut in, and Bilbo certainly did not whimper when he moved enough so Kíli could also drape himself over him.

“Come back to bed.”

“We miss you.”

“We all do.”

There was a different warmth spreading through Bilbo now, even when he snorted. “Like you haven’t sated yourselves with each other, before.”

The implication was out there even before he could stop himself, and Bilbo laughed when the two brothers wrinkled their noses at it in distaste. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that!” He laughed, fidgeting in their grasp. “And you’ll have to move if you want me to get up.”

They both grinned then at their victory, pulling back long enough to let the hobbit stand before sandwiching him in-between them, leading him down the curving halls of his home.

“Are we ever going East?” Bilbo eventually asked, swatting at wandering hands, because he certainly didn’t want to lose his housecoat just yet. “Not that I mind this. Not in the least. It’s just…”

“We are leaving first thing in the morning. Once all our supplies are in order.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin as he stood outside his room, and really, it was entirely unfair how attractive he was. At least, like Bilbo, he had modesty, and actually threw on some trousers instead of just wearing a tunic. Or even less.

“I was wondering if you had forgotten your quest.” Bilbo said as Thorin approached him, all soft-eyed and surprisingly nimble-fingered as the dwarf fiddled with the collar of his housecoat.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Bilbo sighed, shivering when the tie was finally loosened. “I just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t being forced to stay.”

“Believe us when we say that we are all here on our own free will.” Thorin said with a grin that made Bilbo shiver. “Well, Mister Baggins? Won’t you be coming back to bed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? IT'S NOT EVEN FINISHED!!! AUGH!!!


	3. Dream Walker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has really strange dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old, weird idea I had where Bilbo watches and befriends Kíli through his dreams, as early as when he was born. It was a weird, somewhat time-travelly fic and OF COURSE THEY'D FALL IN LOVE BUT BILBO THINKS THAT KILI'S JUST A DREAM UNTIL HE SHOWS UP AT HIS DOOR.

Bilbo always had weird dreams, even when he was young. Whether good or bad, cheerful or terrifying, they were just _bizarre_. Sometimes, whenever he’d wake up from a truly peculiar dream, he would feel more tired than he was when he had gone to bed.

He would tell his parents about them, with mixed results. His father seemed worried about them, blaming his dreams on an overactive imagination. His mother, on the other hand, seemed rather proud of her little boy’s creative mind. But his father’s worries overrode his mother’s praises, and he convinced the local doctor to give Bilbo numerous draughts and tonics, hoping to ward off the dreams.

None of them worked.

Eventually, he got used to them. They stopped surprising them, his mother stopped asking to hear about them, and his father stopped making him drink whatever foul concoction the doctor would work up, even though he still worried.

Years passed. He grew older, his parents passed away, and he was left all alone. With only his dreams to comfort him. 

So of course, his dreams had to turn around and give him misery for ages to come.

The first night it happened, he had what he usually had as a bedtime snack: Chamomile tea and a couple of biscuits. He read a bit, stretched, and then finally tucked in for the night.

It seemed that, seconds after he had fallen asleep, he had found himself in a rather peculiar dream. 

And by peculiar dream, it was actually more like a waking nightmare.

He was in a room. A small room, hazily lit with candles that had almost completely burned out. In the room with him were several people. Dwarves, if the stories Bilbo had read held some truth. All of them had beards, though one dwarf’s beard seemed recently shorn. Even the one woman in the room had a beard. But beards weren’t horrifying to Bilbo, though he never understood the merit of facial hair personally. No, it was the fact that some of the people seemed to be doctors and midwives. It was the fact that the one woman in the focus was screaming her head off, sweating profusely with her legs parted.

Bilbo Baggins was having a dream about a dwarrowdam giving birth, and it was one of the most horrifying experiences in his life.

He turned and rushed to a corner, covering his poor ears and praying that he would wake up soon. He did _not_ want to have this dream, and he tried to think about what in the green lady’s name caused him to have it so he could never do it again. 

He was broken from his reverie when a high-pitched wail pierced the air. 

He slowly turned, hearing well-wishes, cheers, and sobs as he saw some of the people take a bundle off to a side table near a wash basin. Two of the men kept close to the woman, whispering words of comfort as she panted, as if she had gone through something dreadful.

Judging by the stories his aunts used to tell him, Bilbo was fairly certain that such a comparison wasn’t far from the truth. 

Eventually, one dwarf returned to the three carrying a small, pink, wrinkly babe in his arms before depositing them in the woman’s arms.

“Oh, Vílin…” The woman sighed, tears springing from her eyes. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Extraordinary…” The man, presumably Vílin, agreed, kissing the woman’s forehead. “You did beautifully, Dís, my mizmin.”

The one dwarf with the shorn beard smiled at them before looking at the babe. “What will you name him, sister mine?”

“Kíli.” The woman, Bilbo guessed she was Dís, replied strongly. “He shall be Kíli, son of Vílin, brother of Fíli… and nephew to Thorin Oakenshield.”

After a moment of hearing some of the dwarves tidy and clean, Bilbo finally mustered the courage to look, feeling a strange pull that lead him towards the side of the bed. He looked down at the dwarf swathed in blankets and furs, seeing it wriggle and hearing it murmur.

So his dream had conjured a dwarf family for him, and made him witness the birth of Kíli. 

“Well…” Bilbo muttered softly, comforted by the fact that it seemed no one could hear him. “I guess he’s… kinda… cute…”

Then Kíli opened its small eyes, and Bilbo felt something shoot through him, causing him to freeze in place. It was as if a bolt of lightning went through his spine as those eyes locked on him. 

“Ah…” He breathed, lips twitching. “Well, hello…”

He then fully grinned when Kíli seemed to coo in response, reaching a shaky hand towards him. Just as he reached to touch said hand, Vílin, whom he was standing next to, straightened.

“Does anyone else feel a chill?”

It was as if he said some sort of spell, because in the next second, Bilbo was no longer peering down at the cooing babe called Kíli. Instead, he was in his bed, the sun beaming into his eyes and panting as if he had run the length of the Brandywine.

"Well..." He muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'm certainly never drinking tea before bed again."


	4. Must Be The Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's a lot of looking, and then shit goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my attempt at an Alpha/Beta/Omega verse...?
> 
> Yeah, I know.

Bilbo was looking, but there was nothing wrong with that. So long as that was all he ever did.

Of course, who wouldn’t look at an attractive omega? Especially one as attractive as Kíli.

It was hard to ignore the dwarf prince. He was all boundless energy and enthusiasm. Big, bright smiles and encouraging words. Ever since the trolls, the young dwarrow wasn’t far from the hobbit, and they conversed when they could, exchanging stories and the like. One would have to be a fool to not see how absolutely lovely he was. Though odd by dwarf standards, he was certainly not by anyone else’s. Or at least, to Bilbo’s. 

Of course, that was all there was. Nothing else, nor would there ever be anything else. While Bilbo was an alpha, which was a rarity amongst hobbits, and Kíli was an omega, a rarity amongst dwarves, the chances of Kíli ever taking him for a mate were incredibly slim. For one, there were plenty of alphas in their company, all much more appealing to a dwarf like Kíli. Bilbo was certain that Kíli would never pass any of them over to settle for a simple, middle-aged hobbit. Second, dwarrow chemistry was different. Their heats were only triggered when around their Ones for a certain amount of time, as Balin had explained. It had to be one of the company, or someone else. Certainly not Bilbo. He was never that special.

But Bilbo could still look and admire, for Kíli was lovely. Whoever was his mate would certainly be lucky.

So Bilbo looked, for that was all he’d ever do.

**x**

Kíli was ill. He was certain of it.

He felt feverish, weak-kneed, and everything seemed to smell bad. His brother and uncle both smelled particularly foul (though they hardly had chances to bathe these days, so it was understandable). In fact, the only thing that he found he could tolerate being around was their burglar.

Kíli liked the hobbit, enjoyed spending time with him and admiring how wonderful he looked when he smiled or laughed. Plus, it helped that he was rather handsome, though bare-faced and pointy-eared. These days, he looked particularly fetching, and his smell. _Oh_ , his smell. It was fresh and clean, with hints of something floral and sweet. It was like being out in the fields after a storm, with the scent of fresh baked sweets wafting in the air. 

He spent as much time as he could with the hobbit, especially now. After the trolls, the goblins, and the orcs Kíli didn’t want Bilbo out of his sight. It was almost painful, and he never felt like that before. Even now, when most of the company was asleep, Kíli kept Bilbo in his line of sight, watching as the hobbit twisted and turned in his makeshift bedroll (Thorin had leant him his coat, which left something burning rather fiercely in his gut). 

They were soon heading out to meet a friend of Gandalf’s, though the trek to this friend’s house was long. It didn’t help when most of the company was tired, injured, and hungry. Bilbo seemed to suffer more for it: His clothes were baggier than when they first met him, and he usually had bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep. So what he was currently watching wasn’t new. He always felt bad about that, but tonight seemed to affect him more than usual.

“He’s quite restless tonight, isn’t he?”

Kíli blinked, tilting his head to look at his brother, seeing that he too was concerned. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Fíli stared at his brother, taking in his slightly flushed face and hazy eyes. He knew that Kíli wasn’t doing well, but he was trying not to draw to much attention to that fact to appear strong for their uncle. It was just a little bug, from what he gathered, and he hoped that they would reach this friend’s house soon so his brother could recover. But right now, it seemed, that his brother’s own illness was the last thing on his mind. It seemed to be on their burglar, instead, as it had been quite often.

“Think he might like some company?” Fíli finally offered, and Kíli beamed, as if grateful that his brother was going to help him.

“I think so.”

They crept to where Bilbo was, mindful of the others snoring away, and of Dori, who had watch. They themselves didn’t have anything to sleep on, save their coats, so they draped them over themselves as they settled next to the hobbit. 

“Whu-What?” Bilbo murmured, looking at them blearily. “Boys, what are you doing?”

“We thought we’d keep you company, Mister Baggins.” Fíli supplied, already laying down. “It is rather cold out, tonight.”

“Indeed, and you seemed quite restless.” Kíli cut in. “Can’t have our burglar suffer needlessly, now can we?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-.” Their hobbit sputtered, and Kíli didn’t think he’d ever find pointy ears turning pink lovely, but he did.  
“Think no more of it, Bilbo.” He stated. “This is no skin off our backs, I assure you.”

The smile Bilbo gave him was shy and hesitant. “Well… alright, then.”

With that, they all settled in for the night. Kíli fell asleep faster than he was used to, and enveloped by warmth and their burglar’s comforting scent.

He never felt so at peace sleeping in the wild before.

**x**

When Bilbo awoke, it was to a deep, reverberating growl. 

It was not the most pleasant thing to wake up to, after such a blissful night of sleep. In fact, it was the complete opposite of pleasant. He tried to move, but the growling rose in volume when he did, and whatever was holding him tightened. Truly frazzled, he opened his eyes and craned his head to see the company above him. They collectively seemed rather shocked themselves, especially Fíli who was closest, though Thorin’s shock was seemingly tempered with annoyance.

“Wha…?” Bilbo muttered softly. “What’s going on?”

“Bilbo…” Fíli placated softly. “Can’t you tell?”

“Tell? No! No, I can’t tell!” He replied. “What’s happening?”

“I think, laddie,” Oin cut in before anyone else. “That you need to take a _deep_ breath. Through the nose, if you can.”

Feeling utterly confused, he did, and regretted not catching it sooner. He was hit with a pungent smell, rich and musky, even a little spicy. It surrounded him and fogged his mind, blood rushing to pool in his groin. That’s when it hit him.

It was the scent of an omega in heat.

The pieces fell together in his head rather quickly after that. 

An omega was in heat.

There was only one omega in the company (or at least, the only one Bilbo was aware of).

Heats were only triggered in dwarrows when in the presence of their Ones. 

One quick look cemented his thoughts as he saw that it was Kíli who was his captor. Face flushed and perspiring, eyes dark and wild. And all Bilbo could say was. “Oh.”

For he was Kíli’s One. And Kíli was in heat… in the middle of the woods, nonetheless. And in front of his friends and _family_.

Bilbo was screwed, and in more ways than one.


	5. Dwalin's Burglar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those "Thorin and/or other dwarves go to the Shire for work and meet Bilbo" fic ideas, but I Dwilbo'd. I kinda lost the spark for this one, I admit. Sad, too. I was going to have Bilbo punch Dwalin in the face. :/

“A hobbit? Seriously?”

Dwalin barely looked over at Thorin, his friend and king, who had reduced himself to being a humble, travelling blacksmith to help support his widowed sister and his nephews. Someone whom Dwalin has followed to the ends of the earth for, even all the way to a small, quiet village inhabited by folk even smaller than they were. 

Currently, Thorin was asking questions about his choice in bed partners. Truly, though, if Thorin had met Bilbo Baggins, the fierce yet friendly hobbit who was adored by his nephews and coddled by the large guard, he might understand why Dwalin was immediately smitten with him when he first saw him. How he was transfixed by the hobbit as he watched him take an odd pebble and lobbed it at a pesky squirrel with surprising accuracy. How he delighted at the blush that started at the tips of those kissable ears when they locked eyes. How kind and accepting he was, and how his parents always seemed to have room for him at the table when Bilbo dragged the large dwarf to dinner. 

Of course Thorin wouldn’t understand. He thought that hobbits were too delicate, too innocent, too _hairless_. He didn’t know that Dwalin found the idea of a kind, gentle being waiting at home for him with a warm meal and a gentle touch more appealing than a harsh dwarrow or dwarrowdam to butt heads with. 

“Yes.” Dwalin stated simply, watching as Thorin frowned down at the gardening tool he was assessing. “He has a name, and you should know it. Your nephews flock to him like he’s family.”

“Of course they would.” Thorin groused. “They’re as innocent as he is.”

Dwalin scoffed, remembering exactly how “innocent” Bilbo was when he hefted one of Dwalin’s axes and swung it with surprising accuracy. And what happened afterwards.

Innocent indeed.

“Why him, though?” Thorin asked, snapping Dwalin out of his thoughts. “Out of all the people, all the _dwarrows_ in Middle Earth, why him?”

“For the same reasons why your sister married that miner you hated.” Dwalin answered. “He’s my One.”

Now that surprised Thorin, for he dropped the tool and rounded fully on his friend. “Your One? You think the _halfling_ is your _One_?”

Dwalin felt himself bristle. “His name is Bilbo.” He groused firmly, watching Thorin straighten. “And you’d best be remembering that name, cousin.”

“No dwarf has found his One outside of our race, Dwalin.” Thorin pressed. “Surely you’re just blinded by-.”

“You sound like your grandfather.” Dwalin spat, causing Thorin’s face to flush in anger. He was overstepping, Dwalin knew, but he also knew that Thror was once a kind, yet conservative king. How Thorin’s mother wasn’t Thrain’s first chosen, and how Thror had forced him to marry a dwarrowdam instead of the human woman he adored. 

But Thorin didn’t have time to retort, for two familiar voices called from the front of the shop.

“Uncle Thorin!”

“Master Dwalin!”

Both dwarrows turned to see Fíli and Kíli rush in, and Dwalin bit back a laugh at the sight of the two brothers in light, button-up shirts and trousers, bare feet covered in dirt. 

“Look at what Mister Boggins gave us!” Kíli cried happily, holding his arms out. 

“We look like proper hobbits, now!” Fíli finished as said “Mister Boggins” walked in as well, face pink from embarrassment and exhaustion, carrying a basket on his arm.

Dwalin grinned at the two young dwarrows, and he didn’t fight the laugh that burst forth upon seeing Thorin’s pained expression.

“Well…” Thorin forced out, sending Dwalin a dark glare. “You both look… you look…”

“Rather charming.” Dwalin finished, ruffing Kíli’s wild hair. “I’m sure the lasses will swarm you in no time.”

Thorin covered his sputtering protests with a cough as Kíli gagged at the mere thought of girls, causing Fíli to tease him. For they were still young lads, in their fifties, though Fíli was much closer to his sixties, and many a dwarrow around that age had little interest in girls. Thorin even, quite the late bloomer, wasn’t interested in any relationship until he in his mid-nineties. 

But Thorin and his nephews were the last things on his mind, for his Bilbo, his lovely little hobbit, was pressing into his side and nuzzling his beard and tugging on his mohawk with his free hand.

“I hope you don’t mind,” He said, grinning up at him and causing his heart to flutter. “But we brought lunch, figuring that you would be hungry.”

“Famished.” Dwalin purred, smirking at Thorin’s scowl and Bilbo’s pink ears. “Did you make this all by yourself?”

Bilbo’s ears went even pinker. “Well, no. Mother helped out a great deal.” He explained, and Dwalin was thankful, for he did love Belladonna’s cooking. He was so very nervous when he first met Bilbo’s parents, but they welcomed him with open arms (Belladonna particularly, though Bilbo’s father sent him skeptical looks until just recently). “Are you ready for a break?”

“If she packed those biscuits, absolutely.” Dwalin stated, sending Bilbo a hopeful look, for he did love those biscuits. 

Bilbo merely grinned at him, holding up a separate parcel, only to pull it away when Dwalin tried to reach for them. “After. I don’t want you spoiling your appetite!”

Dwalin certainly didn’t pout, but it was a close thing, and he glowered at Thorin’s giggling nephews. His glower didn’t lessen when Bilbo began to set the small table nearby, hindered mostly by the excitable young ones, and he saw Thorin was smirking at him.

“I think I rather like this hobbit after all, Dwalin.” Thorin joked, causing Dwalin to growl.

“His name is Bilbo.” He corrected without much heat. “And get your own! I don’t share.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I should not be sad that Bilbo doesn't punch Dwalin. WTF AIDA!?!?!


	6. Veterinary AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erebor's a vet clinic, and Dwalin's a no-bullshit tech who just wants to work with a competent veterinarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AU that I've always wanted to read/try to write for ages, really. I eventually attempted to write it, as you can see, but I don't know if I like it enough to continue it. Even though it's got a few things going for it that I like: Possible Dwilbo, fem!Dwalin, and animals.

“New guy’s coming in today.”

Dwalin grunted, barely acknowledging Kíli’s words as she focused on the patient’s chart before her. Their temperature was going back to normal, slowly but surely, so the fluids and the medications were working. Her worries over them had diminished, if only for their family’s sake.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Kíli asked. “I said-.”

“The new guy’s coming today, I know.” She replied, looking up at the young man sitting on the counter. “Thorin already told me.”

Kíli scoffed. “You mean he threatened you.”

“He did mention that he would like this person to stay a bit longer than a week, and that I shouldn’t try to ‘scare him off’.” She said. “Though it’s not my fault that he keeps hiring idiots.”

“They’re not _idiots_.” Kíli defended, legs swinging. “They’re just-.”

“Too full of themselves to admit when they’re wrong and cost a patient’s life in the process.” Dwalin cut in sharply. “Either way, I hope this newbie is good. Gandalf referred him, and he has an eye for people who have at least half a brain.”

Kíli grinned. “If anything, the night shift should be a lot more entertaining!”

Dwalin snorted, finishing with the chart and hanging it in front of the patient’s cage. She smiled as the dog wagged its tail at her. Truly, the dog was feeling much better.

“Now, are you quite done with your break?” Dwalin asked Kíli as the young tech paused. “I need to give Fluffy her meds, and then she needs to go out.”

“Sure thing!” He piped up, sliding off the counter as Dwalin opened the bottom cage and the Mastiff immediately stood and walked over to lean against her thighs. “I just can’t believe they thought ‘Fluffy’ was a good name for this big girl.”

“We can’t rename them.” Dwalin said, reaching for the syringe on the counter and going for Fluffy’s IV. “Just help them get better.”

-

It was a family thing, if Dwalin were being honest with herself. Her mother was a vet tech ever since she could remember, and while she hardly ever saw her because of the hours, Dwalin had looked up to her mother, and aimed to be as good as she was. Not to mention that she loved animals, possibly even moreso than her. Her mother, who looked at almost every orphaned cat or dog and took them in, filling their home with more animals than they could possibly dream of. 

She chose to be a technician because they got to work more closely with animals and because she didn’t want to be like one of the idiots her mother would complain about after work every day. Unfortunately, that meant that Dwalin had to be like her mother, and deal with the idiots instead of being one of them. To be fair, not every veterinarian was an idiot, but there were plenty that were. Too full of themselves to truly think things through. Too foolish to listen to someone who had been working for longer than they have. Their final word was law, even though it might cost an animal’s life. 

Dwalin couldn’t take the bullshit with her decade or so of experience and the knowledge her mother drilled into her since she was a teen, and there were many shouting matches and lost jobs because of it. Because a technician wasn’t supposed to be smarter than the vet. Wasn’t _allowed_ to be. 

Then Thorin approached her. Her dear cousin and oldest friend, and he practically hired her on the spot when Gandalf referred her to him. He knew how smart she was, and while he allowed her to speak from her experience, he didn’t quite like how some of the vets complained about all the second guessing they encountered with her, even when she was right. 

It meant a lot of problems and a lot of open vet positions in Thorin’s clinic, as well as Thorin sending Dwalin glares because she caused another one to get fired, or to quit, _yet again_. But she was good at her job, and he knew it. She was the one that he sent the new techs to so they could learn the ropes. The one where he sent his youngest nephew to so he could learn how to work in emergency medicine. The one that Ori trusted with his and Thorin’s dogs. The one Bofur trusted with his cousin’s rats and the one Gloin trusted with his son’s favorite cat. 

People trusted Dwalin more than they did some of the vets, even when said vets trusted her opinion more than they did their own at times. She just hoped that the new guy wasn’t like the others who had left.

-

She was on a smoke break with Bofur when he finally arrived. At first, she thought it was just another client driving up in their beat-up car, making the silly mistake of parking where the employees did. But Bofur whistled lowly at it, and Dwalin looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s early.” He told her as he snuffed his butt out. “That’s a good sign.”

“Who’s early?” She asked, blinking when she heard the engine get cut off. “You mean _that’s_ the new guy?”

“Doctor Bilbo Baggins, indeed.” Bofur said, grin widening as it seemed they were struggling with something in their car. “I met him when Thorin was showing him around the other day during their interview. He seems nice enough, even though Thorin seemed to hate him for the first few minutes.”

Dwalin snorted. “How am I not surprised?”

“Well, he did help when wee Molly had a seizure, so he’s not afraid to get his hands, or clothes, dirty.” He said. “After that, Thorin pretty much hired him on the spot.”

“Molly? _Thorin’s_ Molly?” She questioned. “He allowed someone on interview to help with _Molly_?”

“Not quite protocol, but no one needs to know that.” Bofur said, winking. “And here he comes!”

Dwalin turned from her friend to watch as the car door finally opened and a curly head of blonde curls finally popped up. He was short, apparently, and liked to curse at his “bloody useless bag”. Eventually, the man stepped away and closed the door and she finally saw the new guy fully for the first time, and she immediately wanted to balk at Thorin’s judgement.

He didn’t seem young, per se. But he had a sweet, childish face framed with curls. A soft man with a softer middle, and she could swear that he was wearing a sweater vest. He so very much reminded Dwalin of the men Dís and her meet during their nights out. How such men could be so easily gobbled up and spat right back out. 

If anything, Dwalin had surmised, at least this one was cute.

“Doctor Baggins!” Bofur called out, and Dwalin fought down the urge to glare at her friend as his shouting caused the wee man to stumble a bit. Eventually, “Doctor Baggins” noticed them and smiled, even though it looked a bit strained.

“Ah, hello again!” He greeted nonetheless, wandering over. “Bofur, was it?”

“Indeed.” Bofur affirmed, and Bilbo smiled at him, a bit more genuinely, before he finally seemed to notice Dwalin standing next to them.

The man came up to her chest, and he had to crane his neck up to look at her face. Dwalin merely stared back at him, awaiting the inevitable. The gulps, the shudders, or the possible silent scream of terror. All that had happened before when new employees met her.

Instead, he merely quirked an eyebrow. “Those things can kill you, you know?”

She merely snorted. “A lot of things can.” She stated. “I’m Dwalin, by the way. Head-.”

“-Head Technician, I know.” Bilbo filled in, smiling up at her. “Mister Durin told me about you. Said you don’t mess around.”

“There is no room to mess around in any field of medicine, Doctor Baggins.”

Instead of glaring, Bilbo’s grin only widened. “Then I think we’ll work together just fine!” He remarked brightly. “And please, just Bilbo’s fine. For both of you. This isn’t some soap opera.”

With that, he adjusted his bag. “Well, I’ll be heading in and getting ready.” He chirped. “Let’s hope our shift’s a good one!”

Dwalin only blinked, waiting for Bilbo to disappear into the building before turning to Bofur. “What does he mean by ‘good one’?”

“Hell if I know.” He remarked. “But didn’t I tell you? He seems good enough. And he’s cute, ain’t he?”

“Oh, shut up.” She growled, snuffing out her own butt before heading towards the doors herself, Bofur not far behind.

“Please, I saw you staring at his butt.” He teased. “And it was a cute butt, wasn’t it?”

“I said, shut up!”

“Glad we agree, then!”

Dwalin sighed, pushing the doors open and not even bothering to hold them for Bofur. In the end, she just hoped that this shift was a “good one”, as Bilbo Baggins called it.

Even though she still didn’t know what he meant by “good”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILL I EVENTUALLY DECIDE THAT, YES, I LIKE IT I WANT TO WRITE MORE?
> 
> Who knows.


	7. Greaser AU Part the Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo didn't want Smaug to visit him at work, if only because he was sure the greasers would raise hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because people kept asking me to write a sequel to my 1950s 30 Day AU fill, and I kinda got the idea of Bilbo getting a boyfriend and having them be a nerdy awkward Smaug while the greasers lose their shit. Actually, it's not THE Smaug, but…
> 
> Well, it doesn't matter. It's clearly unfinished, but ENJOY NONETHELESS.

Wilhelm Smaug was one of the nerdiest boys in school. He loved his classes, and excelled in almost every single one (except gym or anything athletic, really). He approached his academics with such a zeal that almost everyone made fun of him. Because of this, he would tend to keep to himself, doing his homework, his extra homework, and hoarded the library books like they were gold.

Bilbo would’ve never known he’d existed unless they were partnered together for science class. Would’ve never known that he was surprisingly sweet and kind unless they were paired up for a project. Would’ve never crushed so hard on a nerd unless he saw him blush and smile. 

Such relationships weren’t really accepted those days, so Bilbo was careful when he first made a move. Because he might’ve been a coward in most situations like that, he knew he would never know for sure if he waited for Smaug to make a move.

(He was glad that he wasn’t punched in the face for kissing him, but he was certainly hurt when Willhelm thought he was making fun of him. In the end, it took three more weeks of Bilbo avoiding him for his feelings to be accepted as actual feelings and not just a big joke.)

In the end, while they were probably more open about their relationship than most couples of their orientation, they still kept quiet about it. Of course, the greasers would find out anyway. Bilbo’s greasers, as they like to put it. 

He had tried to keep Smaug from visiting at work, because he knew that his boyfriend was bound to be harassed (and that would’ve been the kinder reaction). Had tried to delicately tell him that a baker’s dozen of burly, leather-clad boys of various ages couldn’t take the hint that Bilbo wasn’t theirs to own, and they would try their best to keep it that way. 

Still, Bilbo tried to hide the dread he felt swooping through him when he saw his gangly, ginger boyfriend stroll in and sit at the counter. Tried to fight the urge to look towards the greaser table as they grew silent the moment he walked in and “brazenly” chose to stick close to Bilbo. In all honesty, he was just glad that their “King” wasn’t in today. He never took to the knowledge that Bilbo spat in his food very well. 

He wanted to tell Smaug to go away. To wait to see him until after his shift was done. But he looked so happy and cute in his sweater that was a hair too big and his pants that were a hair too short, that he decided to just go with it.

“Hello!” He greeted. “Done at the library already?”

“I think if I stayed there any longer, my eyes would start bleeding, even though that’s practically impossible.” Willhelm answered, taking a seat and placing his overstuffed bag on the floor. “It’s for the better. I think I’ve almost read every single book they have, excluding the children’s section.”

“Oh, you should definitely count the children’s section.” Bilbo told him. “It’s only fair.”

Smaug laughed then. Well, not laughed so much as snort loudly. It was still adorable. 

“So, are you just here for a visit, or do you actually want something?” He asked when he settled down.

“Oh, pick something for me.” Was Smaug’s answer. “You know what I like.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow. “Have you had lunch?” He pressed, and was met with silence. “Burger, then. Honestly, you need to stop skipping meals!”

“It’s not like I do it on purpose!” Smaug defended, even as Bilbo moved to write the order down. “I just… got caught up in work.”

Bilbo scoffed, even as he tacked the order up for the chef. “A shake too, then.” He snarked. “You need the calories.”

“Empty calories…” Smaug stated lightly.

“Better than none at all!” Bilbo stated. “Really, you need to take better care of yourself.”

He then dared to reach other and squeeze one of Smaug’s hands. It was risky, with the eyes of the greasers glued on them, but he was rather tactile, and such a place was always considered a safe haven. Well, as safe as possible.

It was enough to get Smaug to smile at him, though, so that was good. “Why do that when you take care of me?”

“Oh, don’t you start…”


	8. Dagith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Bilbo has Acorn and Tomato, Thorin finds his Dagith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greatly inspired by Ewebean's "Pugs Under the Mountain" AU. Because I seriously think that, in such an AU, Thorin is most definitely more of a cat person.
> 
> In other words, I couldn't help myself. And I never made a full fic about it, so here's a little blurb.
> 
> ALSO: I don't own this AU, Acorn, or Tomato. Nor do I own anything Tolkien related. Just wanted to let you all know.

It wasn’t that Thorin _hated_ Bilbo’s pugs that were very much the hobbit’s despite him saying anything contrary. He truly didn’t, but they were tiny things that would bark endlessly at some small, random noise. Would leave wet spots on expensive carpets and smelly treasures in his favorite slippers. Would chew and tear apart important documents before sending him _that look_ to try and get out of trouble, even though it never worked. Would never do anything wrong in his Consort’s eyes, despite clearly leaving evidence to the contrary.

So while Thorin didn’t hate Acorn and Tomato, they were just solely Bilbo’s treasured pets that he liked well enough when they were being _good_. And Thorin had accepted the fact that such creatures would be a main fixture within his family. That he probably would never feel such a connection to an animal like Bilbo did for them.

Until one rainy day, when he found her. Soaked to the bone and seeking shelter in the mountain. With no family of her own and with big, soft eyes and the sweetest voice he ever heard. His heart instantly melted upon seeing her, and he took her without a second thought. From that moment onward, he knew he was meant to have her as his very own, and that he was sure Bilbo would accept that (or he would have to, just as he did with Acorn and Tomato). 

That was when Thorin found his Dagith.

**x**

“You found a cat.”

“Dagith.” Thorin corrected, smiling down at the feline as she purred, scratching a gentle finger under her chin. “Her name is Dagith.”

Bilbo sent his husband a look before sharing one with Tomato. Tomato, because Acorn was dancing around Thorin’s feet to try and get a better look at the cat Thorin was cradling like a babe. It would’ve been a sweet image if it weren’t for the fact that Thorin was holding a cat in the first place.

It wasn’t that Bilbo _hated_ cats. It’s just that cats were always vicious, bossy, territorial creatures whose only purpose was rodent extermination. They sprayed, clawed furniture, and got hair on everything. If anything, it was a mutual dislike. The fact that Thorin was holding one, coddling it, and naming it made Bilbo rather concerned.

“Thorin,” Bilbo pressed, arms crossed. “I do hope you’re not planning on keeping it.”

Thorin sent him a look. “I do.” He replied, voice broking no argument.

He huffed at Thorin, for two could play at that game. “Thorin, we cannot keep a cat!” He protested. “It would not make any sense at all! Not with our position and how little time we could spend with it.”

Thorin looked entirely unimpressed. “By your logic, we should’ve never taken in the pugs.”

Bilbo sputtered. “That’s-!” He started, but he cut himself off, because it wasn’t different, even though it was in some ways. For cats couldn’t be trusted with things like furniture and carpets. Dogs were different, because they didn’t recklessly damage things. They didn’t knock things down off high shelves. Didn’t leave rats or birds on your bed. And they certainly didn’t scratch you for no good reason.

“Ghivashel,” Thorin implored, moving to stand next to Bilbo. “I do love Acorn and Tomato, but they are _your’s_ , and you know it. Dagith… She will be mine to care for. Plus, cats are more independent, and Dagith is certainly quite friendly. And we have plenty of room and time for her.”

Bilbo huffed, because Thorin did seem smitten over the cat, and he had a few good points. And she was very pretty: long black fur with swirls of orange, and big, bright yellow eyes that made his heart warm in a similar fashion as it did when he saw his babies first thing every morning.

Still, they had expensive furniture. And he could see her claws from where he was. 

“What about Acorn and Tomato, though?” He pressed. “We don’t know if they’ll get along.”

Thorin solved that simply enough: He placed Dagith down onto the ground with a gentle scratching to her back before pulling away. She looked up at them, tail raised and curious, until Tomato leaned in and sniffed her.

Bilbo held his breath, ready to step in the moment Dagith’s paw rose and her claws extended. But she never even shifted on her feet. Merely butted her head gently against the pug’s, rubbing along his neck, purring all the while. As this happened, Tomato’s tail wagged happily, as if pleased that he had a new friend.

 _Traitor_ , he thought darkly, up until Acorn barreled over and pounced. She was all exuberance and excitement, as she usually was, until Dagith swatted her nose.

“Gentle!” Thorin barked over Bilbo’s squawk. For this feline dared to hurt his dog, and Thorin was simply _allowing_ it! It wasn’t fair, and it certainly would not do. 

“Thorin, she _scratched_ her!” He hissed, but Thorin raised a hand.

“She didn’t use her nails. If she did, I don’t think Acorn would still be here.” He replied. “Besides, Acorn approached too hard and too fast. Not everyone’s comfortable with that.”

Bilbo crossed his arms, looking back down to see Acorn flopping down, butt wriggling in the air as Dagith watched on, clearly unimpressed. Acorn sprung back up and got close, but slowly this time. More gently. Dagith merely began to lick Acorn’s head, which seemed to please the dogs to no end.

He felt utterly betrayed, for they were all excited and friendly towards the cat. The cat Bilbo didn’t want in his living quarters and on his furniture. But then he looked at Thorin and his grinning face, and he saw something there. A small spark of hope, which Bilbo hadn’t seen often in his husband’s eyes. Bilbo was torn, because while he didn’t like cats, he loved Thorin. And Thorin, it seemed, adored cats. 

He supposed there would be a compromise.

“We can keep her.” Bilbo told him. “But she better stay off my armchair!”

Thorin merely kissed his forehead. “Of course.” He said, and Bilbo had a feeling that such rules wouldn’t be upheld.

And in the end, he just hoped that the cat wouldn’t leave a hairball near his person in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you'd be interest, be on the lookout for another version of this a la Sherlock style. So many Sherlock fics, wasted. I think there's even one or two Sherlock/Cabin Pressure fics lying around.


End file.
